Girl With The Broken Smile
by muggleindenial28
Summary: The cards came every year without fail, what if someone else came as well. Somewhat of a subplot/expansion/pre-qule to my other story "There Are Many Things That I Would Like to Say to You", you don't have to have read it for this to make sense. Although, you can if you'd like. This takes place sometime during season 2 but before "Jacksonville". Please read and review:)
1. Chapter 1

Girl With The Broken Smile

_A/N: So this is basically an expansion or subplot of my other fic __"There Are Many Things That I Would Like to Say to You"__. You don't need to have read it for this story to make sense, but I encourage you to__. It takes place sometime in season 2 but before "Jacksonville". I do not own Fringe, the song "Wonderwall" or the song "She Will Be Loved". _

_Enjoy! _

Most people look forward to their birthdays every year. Most, but not Olivia. All of the color drained from her face as she picked up the envelope off of the floor.

It came.

The bastard had slid it under the door, just like last year and the year before that. Every bone in her body told her to just forget about it. _Don't open it. Throw it away. Forget about it._ It was the same mantra she would silently chant to herself when her annual unmarked letters would appear. Yet, just like every year, she couldn't bring herself to take even the slightest step towards the trash bin. Taking a deep breath, she shakily broke the seal of the crisp envelope and removed a card.

Missing You

That was it. No signature. No personal message. No way to determine the source of the haunting note. However, Olivia knew exactly where it came from. All the card gave her was the same conformation like it had for the past twenty years; her stepfather was still out there.

Still alive.

Still watching.

And there was nothing she could do about it.

She felt sick to her stomach so naturally she reached for a glass and the bottle of bourbon that she kept on the top self of her liquor cabinet. She poured the amber liquid into a tumbler and brought the drink to her lips. She swallowed the whole thing in one toss, feeling the burn travel all the way down to her belly.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

The sound made her jump, causing the glass in her hand to shatter on the floor of her kitchen.

"Shit!" Olivia swore as reached for her gun that was thankfully still strapped to her belt.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Livia, you there?" A familiar voice called. Olivia let out the breath she had been holding and peered through the peephole.

Peter. Nobody else, just Peter. She unclicked the latch and opened the door.

"Hey," She greeted, flashing a small smile.

"Hey, you didn't come by the lab today." Peter replied.

"Yeah, I got swamped with meetings all day, and then Broyles had me go to a seminar in New York-"

"Relax, you don't need to explain." He chuckled, effectively cutting her off mid-sentence. "I just didn't have a chance to give you these." He said, holding up a large brown paper bag.

"What's in it?" She inquired, raising one brow.

"I don't know why don't you let me in and find out?" Peter suggested, poorly feigning ignorance… smart ass.

Olivia held the door open and let him in. He walked towards the living room, passing the kitchen on the way and spotting the mess of glass still scattered across the tile.

"What happened in there?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, you just startled me when you knocked, no big deal." She brushed off, walking into the scene of the shattered shards.

"You want any help cleaning up?"

"Nah, I'll get it. Have you eaten yet? If not, I was going to order in and you're welcome to stay."

"Sure, I've got nowhere to be. Menus are…?"

"Coffee table, second drawer on the right." She supplied.

"Thanks!"

She grabbed the broom and dust pan and once she was sure that all the glass had been cleared, she left the kitchen. Plopping down on the sofa next to Peter, she handed him one of the beers she had snatched on the way. He nodded in gratitude as he hung up the phone.

"What are we eating?" She asked.

"_Damiano's_, that okay?"

"Excellent! So can I open my gifts now?"

"Yes, but only if you say the magic word." He teased causing her to swat his arm playfully. He faked outrage for a moment before handing the bag over to her, leaning back to watch her invade its contents.

"Happy birthday, Olivia." He said.

She took out three items; a tin of home-made cookies from Astrid (which she and Peter crack open instantly) and a book on theoretical physics from Walter (useless but still thoughtful). She withdraws Peter's gift from the bag last; a thin square, wrapped in newspaper with a red bow on top.

"Newspaper, really?" Olivia gave him a skeptical look.

"Oh shut up, it's what I had on hand." He said as he sipped from his beer. She removed the so-called "wrapping paper", revealing a CD.

"I made you a playlist," Peter said.

"Trust me you'll like it?" She asked, reading the hand written label.

"Just thought I'd add that extra little touch. Besides, I honestly do think you will like it." He said, shooting her a charming smile.

"Is that so? What makes you so sure?" She asked playfully, well, playful for her.

"Because, believe it or not," he teased "After a year of working together, I know you and I know how your mind works. More to the point, I know your music taste. Further, I know that currently it is seriously lacking."

"I have told you countless times that you are more than welcome to bring your own music when we're in a car together." She said, recalling all of the times he had lightly given her shit about it.

"And I've told you that you need to get your own music and not constantly mooch off of mine." He countered.

"This isn't mooching?" She asked sarcastically.

"I prefer to call this guidance," He smirked.

"In all honesty, thank you. I actually really do like it, it's a nice gift." She said getting up to pop the disc into her stereo. Acoustic strumming and the opening lyrics of Oasis's _Wonderwall_ filled the silence in the living room.

_Today is gonna be the day_

_That they're gonna throw it back to you_

_By now you should've somehow_

_Realized what you gotta do_

_I don't believe that anybody_

_Feels the way I do about you now_

"I love this song," She marveled at his accuracy of her taste in music.

"Told you," He said smugly.

At that moment, a knock sounded on her door, signaling the arrival of the pizza man. Naturally Peter had insisted on paying, using her birthday as an excuse. They brought the steaming box into the living room and resumed their positions on the sofa. They ate, drank, and laughed as they told horror stories of exes past. Just like any other night of hanging out for the two of them.

"Did it come today?" Peter asked in a serious voice after conversation had died down for a while. Olivia only nodded, feeling the nausea creep back into her stomach.

"Livia-"

"Don't,"

"I'm serious; you need to go to the Bureau about this." He said.

"And tell them what? To follow a long cold trail because one of their agents is being left creepy cards once a year for the past twenty? If he doesn't want to be found then he won't be. Peter, I've you this." She snapped.

"And what if next year, he does more than leave you a creepy card? What then?" He asked desperately, searching her green eyes for an answer. Olivia hunched forward and dropped her gaze to her lap, Peter was right. Maybe next year the man that had stalked her for years would resurface, this time in person. And that terrified her.

Peter leaned over and placed a gentle hand on her back, moving it in comforting circles. Olivia leaned ever so slightly into his touch, encouraging him to continue the repetitive motion.

"I'm scared," She whispered.

"C'mre," He murmured, pulling her into his arms. Neither of them knew how long they stayed like that. It seemed like hours later when he finally spoke again.

"Do you want me to stay?"

She shrugged but didn't say a word. He sighed and kissed her blonde hair.

"I'm scared too," He murmured after a moment, causing her to look up at him.

"Peter,"

"I'm honestly terrified that he's going to show up next year or the year after and…" He trailed off, tearing his blue eyes away from her face. He took a deep breath before continuing.

"You're my best friend, Liv. And I swear to God if that sociopathic bastard ever lays a finger on you again-" She pressed a finger to his lips, halting his speech.

"Shhh, I don't want to think about him right now. He's not here and he hasn't given any indication he will show up in person next year. If history repeats itself then he won't," She said, trying to seem confident in her answer… Even though they both knew that she wasn't.

Peter knew that at this point he was beating a dead horse. Getting her to admit that she was scared was huge, but as always, when he'd tried to get her to really open up about her fear, she'd disregarded it. Acting as if he was the victim here, not her. Vulnerability was a trait she tried to avoid at all costs, as far as anyone knew she was invincible. No, she wasn't invincible, but she'd pretended to be for so long. Who was he to stop her?

"Sorry, I ruined your night. I'm an ass." He sighed, reluctantly pulling away from her warm embrace.

"You are, but that's alright, you're _my _ass." She said, then turning beet red once she'd realized her unfortunate phrasing.

"Sorry, that came out wrong! I didn't mean it like- shit!" Olivia sputtered nervously, burying her face in her hands.

"You're fine. I know what you meant. You just want my body!" Peter teased as he pulled her hand from her face. She swatted his hand away, causing him to laugh harder. She joined in and soon they were laughing hysterically, both not really sure why. They laughed until they were sore sided and out of breath.

Olivia and Peter locked eyes once they registered how close they had become on the couch. Neither of them uttered a word while they continued to stare at each other, the only sound in the living room coming from the stereo still playing Peter's playlist.

"_I don't mind spending every day_

_Out on your corner in the pouring rain_

_Look for the girl with the broken smile_

_Ask her if she wants to stay a while_

_And she will be loved"_

"Good song," She remarked, not moving an inch.

"I know," He replied, leaning in a little closer. Unfortunately, right at that moment his phone rang. He let out a frustrated sigh and pulled away from her.

"Peter Bishop," he answered stoically.

Sure enough, it had been Walter. Apparently, the Bishop household was entirely out of Oreos and it was to the utmost importance that Peter buy some immediately. He helped her clean up and put away left overs, insisting that she shouldn't have pick up his mess on her birthday. Eventually they were outside of his car, reluctantly saying their goodbyes.

"Well, I hope despite the obvious, you had a good birthday,"

"I actually did have a nice time tonight, thanks for coming over."

"Anytime, Livia."

"Peter?" Olivia called just before he sat down in the car.

"Yeah?"

"Am I really your best friend?" she asked, remembering what he had said earlier that evening.

"Huh, I guess you are. Happy birthday, Olivia."

"Good night, Peter."

And with that he drove away. Olivia walked back up to her apartment, alone with her thoughts. _Best friend_, she pondered. She couldn't remember the last time someone had referred to her as such. She liked it, she decided, it had a nice ring to it. However, there was something about the phrasing that didn't feel quite right. And for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why. Probably just not used to it, she mused.

She walked through the door, spying the card that was still on the counter. Without a second thought, Olivia tossed it in the trash. On her way to her bedroom, she grabbed the CD out of the stereo and popped it into the player built into her alarm clock. Pressing play and turning the volume to a semi-soft level, she got ready for bed.

She slept soundly on her birthday for the first time in twenty years.

_A/N: So that's it for now. I'm debating on adding another chapter but for now it's a one-shot. Anyway I hope you liked it. Don't forget to drop a review and tell me what you think! _


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: First off, a HUGE THANK YOU to all who reviewed, favorited, and followed (you know who you are!)! It is because of you that I'm going to continue this story, so you guys seriously rock! Also I'm sorry about the delay, I was just in a show and so I really did not have ANY time!_

_Enjoy!_

Unable to fall asleep, Peter found himself at the hotel bar in need of a drink. He would come down here more often than he would really care to admit, but at least he would be alone… normally. However, tonight was different, there was another man sitting at the bar. It wasn't too out of the ordinary, Peter supposed. Occasionally, there would be another lost soul nursing a half-warm drink, and tonight must have been one of those nights. He seated himself a few stools away from the stranger, not really in the talking mood.

"What can I get ya?" The bartender, Nick as his name tag identified, asked in a routine voice.

"Dealer's choice," Peter said, not giving a shit either way. He had too much on his mind from his night with Olivia.

It had been awkward tonight, horribly and wonderfully awkward. He knew that at this point he was playing a dangerous game here. Yet as much as he tried to convince himself that it was a bad idea, he couldn't help it. Teasing her, flirting with her,_ holding her_; it felt too damn good. And that was why he was starting to panic. Peter wasn't really sure when it started, these feelings. He just knew that he'd become more aware of them since her accident. He remembered seeing her in that hospital bed, so still and pale. So lifeless. When the doctor told him that there was nothing more they could do for her had easily been one of the worst nights of his life. He hadn't shed a tear since his mother had died, and that night it had been all he could do to not sob over her broken body. That was when he knew he for sure felt something for her, whether it was a childish crush or something more… That was the night that he accepted what he'd been denying for almost a year.

He was falling in love with Olivia Dunham.

"Bit risky, don't you think?" A gruff voice asked, shattering him out of his questionable thoughts of his best friend and partner.

"Excuse me?" Peter asked, turning towards his bar mate.

"Letting the bartender pick your poison?"

"What can I say, I trust his judgment."

"Eh, well more power to you, I guess."

Peter only nodded, hoping the forced conversation was over.

"Chris," The man held out his hand towards him.

"Peter," He said as he shook the outstretched hand with his own. Chris was an older man- although younger than Walter- probably in his mid to late fifties. He had balding mousy brown hair with more than a few streaks of grey. He was also wearing glasses that were partially obscuring his squinty brown eyes. He was in decent shape for his age, Peter decided.

"So tell me, Peter. Where are you from?" Chris asked.

"Well, I grew up here in Boston but I've lived almost everywhere. What about you?"

"Florida originally, although I haven't been in a long time."

"Oh? What brings you to Boston?"

"Visiting my daughter, it was her birthday today, well yesterday now." He said, glancing at his watch.

"And you're not staying with her?"

"No, I'm surprising her actually. We haven't seen each other in a while you see,"

"Hmm, well I hope all goes well with her," Peter said, taking a sip of his drink.

"She's about your age, give or take a year," Chris went on, clearly not done talking.

"Is that so?"

"Oh yes, pretty too. Long blonde hair, green eyes, she's a knock out." He said with a wink that made Peter feel uneasy. He couldn't explain it but there was something about this man that bothered him, something about the way he was smirking that wasn't quite right.

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat but I've got an early day tomorrow," Peter said as he fished out his wallet.

"Ah come on, have a drink with me,"

"Sorry, but I really should-"

"Sit down." Chris said, more forceful this time.

"Why should I?"

"I wasn't done talking about my daughter. You really want to get away from me that bad? I thought we were friends, Peter." He said.

Ah what the hell, Peter thought. Talking to this guy was admittedly more bearable than being up in that cramped hotel room with Walter. Despite their rekindled relationship, Peter didn't think he could handle his naked and drugged father right now. He sat back down on the barstool and nodded for Chris to continue.

"Atta boy, now where was I? Ah yes, my daughter." He cleared his throat before continuing.

"She was always small for her age as a kid, a bit too lanky, but damn was she pretty. Prettier than her sister, even her mom. But you already figured that out haven't ya?"

It was about then that Peter started to feel very uncomfortable. He could understand fatherly pride, he really could. However, he got the impression that this wasn't what that was.

"She's got these eyes that could turn hot water into ice if she looked at in in the right way. And believe me, I was on the other end of that gaze more times than I can count. Something she must've gotten from her father, cuz she sure as hell didn't get it from her miserable excuse for a mother." Chris chuckled darkly at Peter's expression.

"I didn't mention she is my step-daughter, did I? Oops,"

At that Peter froze as the cogs in his mind clicked together with the realization.

_The Stepfather._

_A/N: Couldn't resist the cliff hanger. Please make sure to leave a review (even if you hated it). Also if you have any suggestions on where to go from here, I love to hear them because unfortunately I've hit a rather nasty bout of writers block. Thanks for reading!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: First, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! I cannot even express how happy and overwhelmed I was with all of the positive reviews, follows, and favorites. This totally got my writing juices flowing and I was able to bang out this chapter. I will warn you that it's darker and a more controversial than anything that I've written before. So this is my warning that this chapter will be disturbing in nature and if you do not feel comfortable reading it, this is your chance to run. If you are choosing to continue reading, please know how aware I am that this is a VERY sensitive topic. Also it might be slightly off canon although it was never really confirmed or denied in the show, I decided to take some creative liberty here. I do not own Fringe nor do I own "The Cat in the Hat" (just a copy of it from 1,000 years ago). I hope you like it!_

_Enjoy!_

_ Jacksonville Florida, 1988_

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Alright Olivia, you got this. Three of spades," She whispered to the card she had pulled from the pile now forming on the floor. She took a deep breath and flipped it over.

"Yes!" Olivia regaled in her card counting prowess. This was the twelfth (soon to be thirteenth) time in a row that her guess had been correct. Here she was at nine years old and nearly an expert at counting cards. Doctor Walter would joke that she could make a fortune in Vegas one day whenever he would catch her doing it at the daycare center. It used to drive Nick up a wall, however.

_Nick._

Occasionally, Olivia would think about him. It had to have been at least two years she last saw that frightened little boy with blond hair. He moved to New York after the fire at the daycare center, and they had lost touch. She wondered how he was every once in a while.

"Nine, ten, eleven, twelve," She numbered off again, stopping abruptly when she heard the creaky signature of her old bedroom door opening.

"Oh, don't stop on my account, Princess," The towering figure leered at her and Olivia bit back a shudder, God she hated that nick-name. Her stomach dropped when the sharp smell assaulted her nose.

He had been drinking again.

"Hello sir," Olivia said calmly.

"Now how many times have I told you to call me daddy?" He asked, steeping into her room, encroaching on her domain.

You're not my daddy, she wanted to scream.

"Sorry,"

"Watcha doin?"

Olivia shrugged.

"Well your mom took Rachel to the doctor about that runny nose o' hers. So it's just going to be you and me for a while."

She shrugged again.

"How about we read a book together? You know how much I love to hear you read."

"Okay," She said. Olivia got up from her spot on the floor and walked over to her book shelf and reached for the shortest story.

"Come sit next to me," He said, patting the space next to him on her bed.

She hesitated.

"I said come here, Olivia." He said, more forcefully this time. At this point she knew trying to resist would be useless. It would be better to just do what he said and be uncomfortable rather than disobeying and ending up with a black eye and a broken wrist.

"Atta girl," He said, pulling her closer to him once she sat down.

She tried not to flitch.

"_The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play. So we sat in the house. All that cold, cold, wet day."_ She began. As she read on, he started to play with her long blonde hair, making the even tone of her voice to become slightly unsteady.

"_The end,"_ She concluded, closing the book.

"Great job, Princess," He whispered, kissing the side of her head. If he felt her stiffen, he ignored it.

"You know, Olivia, you're a very pretty girl." He crooned in her ear and continued stoking her hair. She wished he would stop, she hated when he got like this. When he wasn't hitting her or her mom (thankfully never Rachel), he was always very touchy with her. And as she had gotten older, he became more prone to touch her. She could already tell by the smell of him, it was going to be bad tonight.

The thought made Olivia want to vomit.

"Prettiest girl in your class," He kissed the top of her head.

"Prettier than your sister," He kissed her cheek, his goatee scratching her.

"Hell, every day you're even getting prettier than your mom," He whispered into her neck before planting a lingering kiss there.

"What's a matter? You're shaking." He asked in a falsely gentle voice as he moved the hand that wasn't tangled in her hair down to her thigh.

"Please stop," Olivia said through clenched teeth.

"There ain't nothing wrong, Princess." He said as his hand inched higher up her leg. Higher than the last time he did it.

"I said stop!" She snapped, brushing his hand away.

"And I've told you before to relax and shut your mouth," He growled and pushed her down so that her back was now against the mattress. He straddled her and pinned both of her skinny arms in one hand. She was trapped.

"No, no-"

He slapped her.

"Now, Olivia I promise you that we will have a lot more fun if you stop squirming and just relax." He said in a matter of fact voice into her ear, nibbling it a bit before moving on to her neck. His free hand creeping between her legs and began working at the snap of her corduroys once he reached his destination. It was about then when Olivia started crying.

"Shhh, shh, just relax, Princess," He murmured before unzipping the fly of her pants and slipping a hand inside. However before he could go any further, the sound of the front door opening made him freeze. He jumped off of her and yanked her up by the arm.

"Zip up your pants and stop crying," He growled at her. She obeyed and glared at him with tear soaked eyes, full of hatred. He had never gone that far before, and had her mom not come home, he would've gone a lot further.

"Not a word or I swear to God, you little bitch, you are going to get it." He warned and then exiting the bedroom. Leaving Olivia to stare daggers at the door, reflecting on what had just happened. The sound of her mother's voice outside talking to one of the neighbors brought her back down to Earth.

"Marilyn, get your ass over here!" She heard her stepfather yell.

"Chris, what's wrong? Rachel, honey, go see what Livy's doing."

As if it wasn't enough to touch her, he had to go and start on her mom now. Olivia jumped when Rachel, all of five years old, came stumbling into the bedroom, looking confused. Olivia did her best to distract Rachel to the ever increasing volume of the argument going on in the kitchen. By the sound of it, her mom had been talking to Mr. Greyson outside, and once again Chris had gotten the wrong idea. It always started like this and before long, the sounds of fists hitting flesh penetrated the thin walls of the house.

"Please, honey, nothing is going on with him!"

"DON'T GIVE ME THAT SHIT!"

_Slap._

"NOW I'M GOING TO ASK YOU AGAIN, HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN FUCKING HIM?"

_Smack._

"I swear nothing is happening! PLEASE!"

"YOU'RE LYING!"

_Thud._

The sound of her mother's body hitting the floor made Olivia spring into action. She got to her feet and ushered Rachel to hide under the bed.

"Rach, I need you to stay right her and be very quiet. Don't move and don't come out until I come and get you alright?"

Rachel nodded.

"I love you," Olivia whispered and kissed her sister on the forehead just before pushing her under. Carefully, she left the room without making a sound and crept down the stairs. Once she reached the bottom, she took a deep breath and braced herself for the horrific scene taking place in the kitchen. Sure enough, there Marilyn was, cowering against cabinet doors, clutching her very bloody nose. It was all Olivia could do not to cry.

"Please, Chris, no. Please don't go!" She sobbed, reaching for his arm.

"I told you, Marilyn, I am done! You hear me, you slut? I'm fucking done! Have a nice life!" And with that he turned and stormed out of the kitchen. Thankfully, Olivia had been able to duck behind the sofa before he could spot her. The front door slammed shut and a few seconds the car started.

He was gone.

Olivia ran to her hysterical mother who was huddled in a heap on the tile floor. She tried to help her, comfort her, but all Marilyn could do was mutter "no" a thousand times and cry. All that she could focus of was that her husband had left her. And that was just too much for her to handle. Olivia tried in vain to calm her down.

"Mom, listen to me. It's going to be alright, he's gone. He can't hurt us anymore. He can't-" Her soothing words were cut short by the sound of the car door slamming shut.

No. No. No. No. No. No.

Olivia didn't think twice of her next move. She sprinted from the broken woman in the kitchen to the master bedroom. Stopping once she reached the oak nightstand on the left side of the bed, riffling through all of the drawers.

"Come on, come on, where is it?" She chanted to herself until her hand come into contact with a cold metal handle. She found it. Wrapping her hand around the gun, she ran down the stairs and stood at an A frame in front of the huge wooden door, waiting for it to open and reveal her target. All she could hear was the blood pumping a mile a minute in her ear.

Six.

Five.

Four.

She pointed the gun straight forward.

Three.

Two.

One.

The door burst open.

Olivia fired.

Once, twice, and then he fell.

Marilyn screamed.

Olivia dropped the gun.

_A/N: So this was my first time ever writing a flashback sequence. Hopefully, I will be posting the next chapter soon and won't keep you waiting for what will happen with Peter and the stepfather. Thank you so much for reading and please make sure to leave a review (even if you hated it). Thank you!_


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